I am fully in the midst of hard-core marathon training. Part of that training includes drinking absinthe and eating tacos on the night before a 7 mile run. Yes, I know, 7 miles doesn’t seem that far, but it is only March. The marathon is four months away. I think I got time.

Absinthe is now legal in the U.S. (Woo Wo) and The Conch brought a bottle over after doing the tour and tasting at the Hangar 1 distillery in Oakland. Their master distiller has been making absinthe for *educational* purposes for the past nine years but now he can actually make it and sell it. That is good for you and me. The shit tastes good…

The label is that of a monkey playing a cow bell. Apparently, if you produce spirits, there are a lot more regulatory hoops you have to jump through to get your label approved than if you just produce beer or wine. The Hanger 1 guy wanted a label with a monkey playing drums with a human femur. Dick Cheney said no. So, he settled on a monkey playing cowbell with a femur. I know, weird.

I’m getting off topic. The Hangar 1 absinthe is tasty. We ran 7.2 miles today, the Lakers won, the wings are still tasty at Kezar, and I finished the night with a Laphroaig at Alembic.

Teddy – Ye of little faith. I would expect no less from one of the De Burca clan. How quickly you and the expat community of Hanoi forget that one fateful afternoon when a young, striking woman in a red dress and perfectly quaffed hair rolled up to the Minsk Olympics obstacle course starting line. Just like now, no one had faith then. The rest is modern history. I will take your 1000 to 1 odds.